


"The Mind Remains Unaffected to the Last"

by To_Shiki



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Shiki/pseuds/To_Shiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Bond's away the enemy decides to take down his quartermaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"The Mind Remains Unaffected to the Last"

"Where have you disappeared to now, Bond?" Q muttered, eyes darting from screen to screen to screen and fingers flying over his keyboard.  The signal was cranked up another five notches.  "Stop going off the gri-  Oh.  Found you."  A new map of Sweden appeared with Bond's tracer lit showing him moving south.

  
"Did you miss me, Q?"  Bond sounded only slightly strained.  He had improved on all his tests since Skyfall a little over a year past.  Nowhere near as good as when he’d started but now it was no lie when M cleared him for duty.  Therefore the hour long chase he's endured has just barely winded him.  "Where's she headed now?"  
  
Q changed the image to satellite.  "Who?  Oh, you mean my evil twin sister?”  He ignored Bond’s muttered ‘Who the fuck else?’ and adjusted the camera angle.  “Hmm.  We may have a problem."  He zoomed in. "You're in Solvesborg, yes?  Also, did you enjoy seducing her earlier?"  
  
"Of course!"  No word was given to specify what it answered.  The muffled sounds of passerby's protesting at being pushed out of the way came through the comm line clearly.  "Why are there so many bloody people here?" Bond complained under his breath.  
  
"Welcome to the Sweden Rock Festival and the problem, 007," his quartermaster answered dryly.  "When you've caught your runaway date would you mind terribly to secure autographs from Motley Crue for me as a souvenir?"  A couple key strokes later, "Also, she's approximately 20 feet ahead of you to your left."  
  
"I see her."  Several moments passed with Q watching Bond's progress and sipping his tea.  He drank with one eye constantly on the screen and free hand trembling slightly over the keyboard should his assistance be suddenly required.  "Anything in particular you want me to have them sign, darling?"  
  
The rest of the tea was quickly chugged and the mug placed down.  "Have them sign your chest for me."  He switched the screens to his right to show the street cameras’ feeds.  Pupils dilated as he adjusted to the image change.  "And I've told you before not to call me that.”  He watched as Bond navigated through the crowd of rock fans.  A smirk appeared as he watched his double-oh agent close in on their mystery lady and her stolen technology.

It quickly faded as she made no move to escape.

“Something’s wrong,” he warned Bond, trepidation.  On screen the woman with the short, messy brown hair pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, looked at the screen and her grin could only be described as ‘shit-eating’.  She put her cell back in the pocket of her unbuttoned tan cardigan.

Bond’s breath hitched audibly.  “What do you mean?  I’ve almost got her!”

“Yes, and she’s making no move to escape now.”  His eyebrow twitched as the woman looked over her shoulder and right at one of the cameras and winked.   His hands curled away from the keyboard and he shuddered, mentally and physically unbalanced by her actions.  It was only when Bond grabbed her by the arm, pulling her close and her attention away from the camera, did he return to his previous position.

“Just grab her and get back.  I don’t like how easy this has suddenly become.”

“You think this was _easy_?” Bond demanded as he grabbed the woman’s upper arm with more force than necessary.  “Now, my dear, hand over the USB if you please.”

“With pleasure, Mr. Bond.  With pleasure.”    Everyone in Q-Branch, including Tanner and M, could hear the way she literally purred the agent’s name.  The CCTV’s picked up the way she ran her free hand sensually up her body starting at her hip and curving up to rest at the low cut of her dress.  She reached into her dress between her ample cleavage and pulled out the desired USB drive.

“Before I give you this there’s something I must tell you.”  She tapped the piece of plastic and metal against Bond’s lips.  “A question first:  How safe do you feel at home?”  When he answered by starting to drag her back to his car she specified.  “At MI6, I mean.  How safe do you feel within the walls of your precious organization?”  Wobbly high heels made the trek back slow on purpose.

Bond doesn’t bother to answer.  The sooner he got her into MI6’s hands the sooner he can forget about her.  He took the USB drive before she could touch him with it again.  “Thank you, Miss Swanson, for your co-operation.  Shall we head over to MI6 and you can see for yourself just how safe it i-“

“Oh, I already know!” she giggled in delight.  “My wonderful accomplice has already filled me in on all he’s managed to do tonight!”  Bond stopped dead in his tracks causing her to bump into his shoulder.

‘She’s even just as tall as me with those heels on,’ Q noticed absently, shaky hands bracing him against the table.  It took a second for her words to sink in.

Q-Branch fell silent.  Accomplice?  Tanner, M, and Q all looked at each other before turning to the stunned MI6 staff within the room.  Their faces ranged from _how-the-fuck?_ to _oh-shite- boss-i-swear-it’s-not-me!_   No one in here _looked_ or _acted_ like they were a mole (else they would have been caught and dealt with already) and they had no clue what he-

“And to save you all the trouble of what I had him do…  I will tell you exactly - well not really - what I had my precious helper do for me tonight.”

All eyes turned to the woman.  She in turn faced the camera over Bond’s shoulder.  Leaning in she whispered loud enough for the mic, “Are you feeling it yet, little quartermaster?  Can you _feel_ the poison flowing through your veins?”  She braced her hand against bond’s chest and pushed herself away so she could look him in the eyes.  Feigning surprise she put her hand over her mouth and announced, “I poisoned your darling quartermaster.  Whoops!”

“What the hell is she talking about?”

“Q!”

“Explain yourself, woman!”

M, tanner, and Bond all spoke in unison but it was Tanner’s voice that instilled panic within Q-Branch.

Q had fallen to the floor hard between one blink and the next, limbs askew and the back of his head bouncing off the floor.  It looked as if his strings had been snipped while no one was looking.  As M and Tanner fell to their knees on either side of him his body twitched once.  Twice.  Froze.

His chest failed to rise.  Failed to pull oxygen into his lungs.

His eyes remained open, staring at the two men over him.  He could see them as they hovered over him, mouths moving but sound growing splotchy.  Painfully red lips faded to deep purple to more and more blue.  Black spots bloomed and swallowed the world as M turned away from him.

“Someone get medical in here now!” M bellowed as he put a hand to Q’s neck.  “Bollocks.  Tanner, breathe for him!”

The next bit of eternity was a chaotic mix of multiple people calling medical at once, techs grabbing Q’s mug (the only logical source of the poisoning) and taking it to be analyzed, and starting a search for the mole.

Through it all M tried to restart Q’s heart while Tanner forced air into unresponsive lungs.

Over the comm everyone still present could dimly hear Bond’s harsh demands for an explanation over the woman’s shrill cackling drowning out M’s strained counting.

~*~

Seven hours later found Bond seated in a rather comfortable waiting chair at Q’s bedside.  He was freshly showered, minor injuries from the chase patched up, USB drive dropped off to Q-Branch.  Now in his spare suit (the gray one), hair drying, and under orders from M not to move from his place at Q’s side he waited.  ‘For Q’s safety, 007, understand.  We haven’t found the mole yet and he could make a second attempt.’  Bond wanted nothing more than to be given free reign of MI6 to search.  He couldn’t stand being in here.

The sharp hissing of the ventilator and high pitched beeping of the heart monitor grated on his quickly fraying nerves.

The sharp hissing of the ventilator and high pitched beeping of the heart monitor were the only things keeping Bond from leaving the room, finding where Swanson was being kept, and showing her every trick he’d learned about torture from his time in the service.

Medical had done all they could.  Q’s stomach was pumped of any excess hemlock and activated charcoal administered.  The breathing tube was inserted when the genius’ body stubbornly refused to breathe on its own, the paralysis continuing to cling to him.  Bond was given the time frame of anywhere from 48 to 72 hours until the poison was fully flushed from his system.  His two superiors had done an excellent job keeping the chance of brain-death at bay with CPR.  Unfortunately Q now sports a sternum fracture from the sheer force M used to keep his heart beating.  Q will not be happy when he wakes up to find himself on bed rest until it has fully healed.

Forty-one to sixty-five hours left to wait.

MI6 nurses enter quietly.  Slippered feet move briskly across the room, noncommittal sounds made as Q’s chart is examined, noted upon, and replaced.  IV lines and monitors are checked.  A doctor, Bond could care less about his name right now, comes in randomly and repeats the motions of his nurses.  His lips purse as he checks the chart and looks at his wristwatch.  He leaves without a word to the deadly guardian angel watching everyone like a hawk.

Everyone could see the relationship between the two men as they made no real effort to hide it and no one was stupid enough to try and get between them.  Any time someone had tried in the past 6 months to placate Q or Bond when something happened to the other usually wound up injured/electronically screwed for weeks on end.

Thirty-two to fifty-six hours left to wait.

Moneypenny makes sure to come in and sit with the two men whenever there’s a blank space in her (M’s) schedule.  She’s smart enough to keep her distance when need be.  The two agents flirted and killed and fucked and brought down the nation’s threats together when on missions but here, with Q present, she knew better than to try and touch the silently fuming agent.  She sat on the other side of Q’s bed making a move to brush his limp hair away from his face.  When Bond remained seated she started stroking Q’s hair comfortingly.

Whenever Eve entered the room she would come bearing gifts.  There would be food and drink, barely touched.  Reports of how Swanson was doing in the interrogation cell, about the accomplice found dying in a hallway from swallowing cyanide.  She would speak with the doctors herself to avoid potential bad news from causing Bond to react negatively to the messenger.  If he did she at least had a fighting chance should Bond lash out.

Twenty to forty-four hours left to wait.

M and Tanner came into the room once.  The head of MI6 calmly held out a folder and explained everything they had learned from the female Q look a-like and ‘would you like to go take care of it’ was just what Bond needed.   He got up with folder in hand and looked down at Q.  Tenderly he stroked Q’s hand, whispered “I’ll try to leave some for you,” and left.

He was gone for 10 hours.  The base of operations was located only an hour’s drive outside of London’s city limits.  Within 8 hours’ time the 00 agent ruthlessly killed anyone inside.  A group of tourists were found in one of the rooms of the basement, blindfolded, tied up, and drugged out of their minds, who were the only ones spared.   When he returned it was to Moneypenny’s sad head shake and mechanically-assisted breathing.  Nothing had miraculously changed in his absence.

Ten to thirty-four hours left to wait.

That mission was the one and only time anyone tried to get him to leave the room.  When the need grew too great to ignore Bond would use the adjacent bathroom.  The food and drink Moneypenny brought would either be eaten or disregarded.  He did not shift in his seat if his legs or ass grew numb.  His face remained set in an unpleasantly thoughtful expression, blue eyes only leaving Q’s bed _face_ when someone other than Moneypenny entered.

Every hour since he had been admitted the doctor would shut off the ventilator.  Every hour when Q refused to breathe on his own the doctor would turn the ventilator back on.  Every hour when the machine stopped hissing Bond, and Moneypenny when present, would hold his breath.  Every hour when the machine started up again the only sign the agent was grieving was the way his fingers dug into the soft cushion of the chair’s armrests.

Zero hours to twenty-four hours left to wait.

No one bothered to offer up an explanation as to why such a healthy young man was taking so long to recover.  The response time of medical, M and Tanner’s efforts to keep oxygen and blood flowing through his body, the machines keeping him alive now guaranteed his survival.  The lab came back with confirmation that yes it was poison hemlock,  yes it will eventually be flushed out of his system – all the right measures were taken to ensure that, and don’t worry he’ll have a full recovery.

Sixteen hours left to wait.

Tanner came back once to inform both Bond and Moneypenny (and Q who was subconsciously listening to all the embarrassing stories she was whispering to him about Bond) that the USB drive coding had been cracked.  As he turned to leave he added on, “And Ms. Swanson is no longer with us.  Around the same time Q-Branch broke the code our interrogators broke her.”

Ten hours left to wait.

Moneypenny was stroking the back of Q’s right hand telling him about how Bond tried to rush things while they were in Shanghai when she felt it.  The tendons under her fingers jerked.  His fingers twitched followed quickly by his arms and legs.  His hands flew up to his mouth desperately trying to pull the breathing tube out as his body fought the rhythm the machine forced on him out of panic.  His legs kicked out uselessly underneath the thin hospital blanket.

Bond was out of his seat in an instant, protesting body ignored as he helped Moneypenny hold Q down.

“Can we get some help in here?” she shouted over the rapidly beeping heart monitor.  Bond pulled Q’s hands away from the tube while Moneypenny put her hands on Q’s cheeks and made him look at her.  “Calm down, luv.  You’re fine.  Shhh, you’re fine now.  You’re hooked up to a breathing machine.  Let it breathe for you, okay?  That’s it.  Just let it do all the work.  There’s a luv.  Shhh.”  Green eyes stared up at her in fright but he listened to her and slowly his body stopped fighting the ventilator as doctor and nurses swarmed into the room.

The two MI6 agents were ushered out of the room so as to allow enough space for the doctor to run his tests on the still frightened Q.  Neither spoke although Moneypenny graced Bond with a relieved smile when she noticed the sorrow weighing him down had lifted.

~*~

Three days later Q was released from MI6’s hospital on orders to take it easy and make Agent 007 do any and all work until the sternal fracture was healed.  Pale faced and still shaky he quietly accepted the wheelchair Bond held at the ready for him.  With the doctor’s additional orders of plenty of fluids and light food to aid in his recovery Bond made them a light dinner as soon as he had Q situated on the sofa.

The meal was eaten with neither saying much.  Bond did reach out every now and again to nudge Q’s hand back towards his neglected plate when he’d been caught staring at his food more than eating it.  Q in turn would go back to sluggishly eating as under the small dining table he hooked his foot around his agent’s ankle.

If Bond noticed that not once during their dinner, while later checking his backlog of emails, or even weeks after his ordeal that Q didn’t touch his drink he didn’t say anything.


End file.
